


expecting the unexpected

by goldtreesilvertree, mothwrites



Series: expecting the unexpected [1]
Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Multi, Post-Canon, Road Trips, Unplanned Pregnancy, i'm writing these tags before the special, it's not a major part of the story she's just valid and we love her, trans!lovelace, we popping the BIGGEST bottles when everyone survives tomrrow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 10:22:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13144644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldtreesilvertree/pseuds/goldtreesilvertree, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mothwrites/pseuds/mothwrites
Summary: Minkowski has two months back on Earth under her belt, and she’s got everything totally under control. They’ve got a begrudging ally running interference with Goddard, a Mack truck for Hera’s brain, and a safe-house waiting for them in California. Her only problem is the baby.Also; Maxwell’s legacy, a little equality act, non-corporeal pride, oddly competent French braids, disgusting tea, super durable babies, and the validity of gas station condoms.





	expecting the unexpected

_part one_

_the road trip_

 

“How are you a navigations specialist if you get _travel sick?”_

Minkowski glares up at them, red-eyed, over a bucket. “I get _car-sick_ , Lovelace. There’s a difference.”

“Trucking across America was _your_ idea!” Lovelace sits beside her, relenting at her girlfriend’s miserable expression. “Sorry, sorry. Can I get you anything?” she asks, rubbing her shoulders in what she hopes is a soothing manner, with the hand that isn’t currently on the steering wheel.

“Mints, water, and for Eiffel and Hera to stop giggling in the back.” She glares over her shoulder at Eiffel and the laptop that currently acts as Hera’s eyes, ears, and face in the front. “Seriously, this isn’t funny.”

“I’ll pull into the next rest stop I see,” Lovelace promises. “You two, _quit it._ ”

“Of course, captain.” Eiffel briefly tries to restrain himself, then starts giggling again almost immediately. “Maybe we should have stayed on the Hephaestus…” This sets Hera off again, and he adds, in a deep voice: “In space, nobody can hear you puke.”

"If I have to come back there - oh God…” Minkowski interrupts herself, leaning over the bucket again.

In a surprisingly helpful moment for someone who _won’t stop laughing,_ Eiffel leans forward between the seats and hands Lovelace a hair tie.

Lovelace takes it in her free hand. “Minkowski dear, I love you, but I literally can’t tie your hair up and drive a truck at the same time. Think you can stop puking long enough to do it yourself?”

 Eiffel takes it back instead, and leaning even further forward, starts to gather up Minkowski’s red hair from around her shoulders. An oddly competent, if lopsided, french braid begins to form.

“Ugh,” she moans, in lieu of a reply. Her mouth tastes like the fourteenth day with no toothpaste - something she swore she’d never feel again. In her stomach, something stirs, and she only just manages to repress the next gag. It’s not vomit. It’s the _other_ thing.

“We are _never_ letting her eat gas station sandwiches again,” Hera says, decidedly. “This is definitely the longest she’s spent being sick. I _said_ they were a breeding ground for-”

“ _Not_ helpful, Hera,” Eiffel mutters, then, more loudly: “She’s travel sick. It’s not food poisoning anyway.”

French braid complete, Eiffel relinquishes her head, and it hangs heavy over the bucket. _Will it be like this every morning?_ she wonders. _When will they realise why?_

The baby stirs again.

*

_a week before_

“She left you a _house?_ In California? And you’re not going to… use that?” Eiffel looks completely incredulous.

Jacobi, opposite, rolls his eyes. “I’ve had _quite_ enough of living with cameras in the walls, thank you. She only left it to me so Goddard couldn’t requisition it. It’s a ‘smart house’, built for an AI,” he explains, pushing the associated documents with Maxwell’s will over to their side of the table: a tiny metal disc in an ugly Floridian Starbucks. “Only one of its kind. Hera should probably fit, if she trims down a little.”

“And you’re just giving it to us?” Minkowski folds her arms, looking disbelieving. “What’s the catch?”

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll think of something.” He leans back, takes a sip of coffee and winces before setting it down again. “Look, I just think it should be used for its original purpose. She’d… _want_ Hera to use it.”

They’d be wondering how to explain _that_ to Hera, but Hera isn’t with them right now. Hera is currently packed into the back of a truck in a nearby parking lot, and will likely be _very_ annoyed she missed this.

“So you’re giving us a house, and all we have to do is get there?” Eiffel prompts, as though he can’t quite believe it. None of them can.

“Do you want it or not?” Jacobi demands, although he doesn’t look irritated, more… tired. The bags under his eyes are almost as dark as his coffee. “I need to get back to work, so…”

“We’ll take it,” Lovelace says, too quickly.

Eiffel adds a “Thank you,” too shocked to sound sincere.

“Great.” Jacobi throws a smaller packet at Lovelace as he stands up: it jingles. “Enjoy. And get the hell away from here,” he adds, almost like an afterthought. “For me.”

“Done,” Minkowski says, getting to her feet before he can change his mind. They leave. They don’t look back at him. She doesn’t think he wants them to.

*

They’re two days on the road when Minkowski realises what’s happening. She’s never been travel-sick a day in her _life._ Luckily, the others don’t know that. It’s almost exciting, for a full five seconds; the thought of a baby with big eyes and Isabel’s dark curls, bouncing on her lap in a… dirty, borrowed truck. And then the vomiting starts. She has to be at least a month along. They had been sleeping in a tiny rented flat in Florida, with Hera’s servers in all the rooms and Eiffel the insomniac wandering about. It hadn’t given them a lot of privacy for celebratory, ‘we made it back to Earth’ sex. So it had to have been their first week back, at least.

Stupid gas station condoms.

Hera won’t figure it out, she thinks. She has no reason to suspect, even if she remembers travel sickness not being on her medical records. Lovelace is too busy driving to notice, and anyway, they’ve never been in a car together till now. Eiffel, though, grabs her on her way back from the bathroom when they finally stop after the worst bout of sickness yet.

“When are you planning to tell the others? _Are_ you planning to tell them?” He gestures to her midriff.

“I don’t know-” She looks at his expression and gives an exasperated sigh, dragging him back out of sight of the others. “How did you know? And don’t you _dare_ tell the others.”

“You remember _why_ we’re stopping off in Texas, right?” he asks, pointedly. “I’ve done this before, commander. Of _course_ I won’t tell. But shouldn’t you…” Eiffel gestures in the vague direction of the truck out in the parking lot. “I mean, shouldn’t the other _mother_ be aware of this… development?”

“You really think we need to talk about this _now?_ This last thing this road trip needs is this… _development_.” She folds her arms over her stomach, praying she doesn’t throw up again. “We can deal with all this when we get to California. It’ll be fine. Everything will be fine.” She doesn’t even believe herself, so she can’t blame Eiffel for looking incredulous.

“Well,” he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck, “if Kate doesn’t shoot me on sight, I bet she’s still got some of that awful ginger tea she drank when she was pregnant. I think it helped with the throwing-up bit.”

“Great,” she sighs, “That’s _one_ problem out of my hair. Once we get to Texas, anyway.” It’s not going to be that long. At least that’s what she’s going to tell herself.

“For now, you’re on decaf _only,_ ” he tells her. “And I got you some gum. Kate liked gum,” he says, shrugging. She watches him twist the cuffs of his hoodie around his wrists and suddenly remembers how terrified he must be. Texas really isn’t that far, now.

“We’ll work something out,” she says, trying to sound comforting. “But decaf? Do you _want_ to get to Texas alive?”

“Caffeine’s bad for you!” he protested. “We can’t do that to commander junior.”

Her eyes widen. “No. No, no, no…” It’s suddenly starting to feel real. _Horribly_ real. “You are _not_ calling it that.”

“Captain junior?”

“What if she hears you? And no, I am _never_ coming to you for baby nicknames.”

“We’ll come up with a codeword or something,” he promises, and then a sudden smile creeps onto his face. “Hey. You’re having a _baby!_ Did I say congratulations?”

She covers her face with her hands. “Why didn’t I leave you in space?”

“Well, you’re gonna need _someone_ with baby experience. Double hey! We found something I’m more experienced than you at! Never thought that’d happen, hey?” He grins and comes closer, laying a comforting hand on her arm. “Look, it’s going to be okay. You and Lovelace are going to make the _cutest_ babies.”

“You are the worst,” she tells him, but she’s already feeling better. “You really won’t tell the others? I can’t deal with the two of them _and_ this right now.”

“Mum’s the word,” he promises solemnly, then winces at her expression. “Sorry.”

It’s a little easier, after that. Eiffel does his best to cover for her, and also sneaks her a seemingly-endless supply of gum, which helps with the nausea. Hera and Lovelace attribute her near-recovery to getting used to the road, and Eiffel giving up the front seat entirely. The night before Texas, he sleeps in a pile of blankets in the middle of the servers, letting Hera soothe him to sleep. They’re parked just off a lonely stretch of highway in barren borderlands, just stars and grass. Minkowski sits on the edge of the road, staring up at them. They’re still beautiful, and that doesn’t seem right, somehow.

“Hey, stranger,” Isabel says, sitting down next to her. “Been awhile since we’ve had any time alone.”

“Feels like forever,” she agrees, and doesn’t add that it’s because she’s been avoiding her.

“You know,” Isabel says, leaning in close with that sweet smirk, “as soon as we’ve got our own room again, in California, I’m not letting you out of my sight for… ooh, _days,_ at least.” She slips a hand on to Renée’s thigh. “Sound good?”

“Very good,” she says, because it’s true, and lets her head rest against Isabel’s shoulder for a moment. “Shouldn’t you be getting some rest? You’ve been driving all day.”

“Mmm, rest wasn’t what I had in _mind,_ ” Isabel teases. “I can’t sleep in that thing any longer, my neck’s messed up already.”

“With the kids just over there?” she teases, but it’s tempting. Too tempting. Which is how she got into this mess in the first place.

“Roll on California,” Isabel sighs, slapping her knee in mock-disappointment. “You’re all right, aren’t you?” She asks suddenly, with a skewed eye. “I mean, I know we’re all screwed up right now, but-”

“I’m alright,” she says, too quickly, “You know me, I’m always alright.”

“Bullshit. You don’t have to tell me, but if you _wanted_ to…”

She gives her an overbright smile. “Nothing’s wrong. We’re back on Earth. We’re going _home._ What could be more alright?”

“Okay, okay,” Isabel says, holding up one hand in defence before pulling her close again. “You know, lots of things happened here while we were away,” she says, staring off into the distance. “Elections, new laws, that kind of thing…”

“Lots to catch up on.” She smiles up at her, enjoying the peace. Enjoying the space to talk freely. “Where are you going with this?”

“Oh, I was just reading about a little equality act passed in 2015. Thought it might be of interest.” Isabel flashed her a grin. “Look it up some time, won’t you?” She pressed a kiss to her cheek. “You’ll get cold if we stay out here too long. Back to the truck? I cleared some space to lie down, if you’re still feeling queasy.”

She freezes, blinking up at her, then: “Was that a _proposal?_ ”

“It was a suggestion,” Isabel said, getting up and offering her a hand. “Something to think about. For when we’re all settled.”

She almost laughs, thinking of her situation. _Make an honest woman out of me?_

“I’ll definitely… think about it,” she promises, and lets Lovelace help her to her feet, leaning against her shoulder a moment. “You’re so _warm_ , it’s not fair,” she complains.

“You cold, baby?” Lovelace wraps an arm around her as they walk. “I can fix that.”

“I knew there was a reason I was sticking around,” she teases, snuggling under her arm. “I need someone to steal heat from, and Eiffel’s claimed the spot in the servers.”

“I’ll do my best,” Lovelace promises, and then lowers her voice as they get nearer the truck. “Do you think he’ll be okay, tomorrow?”

“He’s been holding it together pretty well,” Minkowski says, cautiously. Worrying about her and the baby seemed to have distracted him a little from worrying about Kate and Anne.

“God knows what she’ll do when she sees him. He said she sounded okay on the phone, but…” Lovelace shrugs. “Well, we’ll just have to see. Let’s get some sleep, babe.”

“We’ll need it,” she replies, and hopes the baby agrees. It’s restless at night, like Lovelace, and she hopes that isn’t going to be a pattern.

*

Two things happen when they reach Kate’s house in Texas. First, she slaps Eiffel senseless, and then pulls him into a long hug while a shy preteen girl watches from behind the doorframe. The second thing happens when she registers Minkowski as they eventually pull apart.

“Oh, you poor thing,” Kate says, with a knowing smile. “Come in. I’ve still got some of that disgusting tea for morning sickness.”

“Oh, no, I’m not-” But it’s too late, she’s already blushing and Lovelace has frozen in the doorway. “You know, I think I will have that tea.”

“What.” Lovelace stares at them both, like a deer in the headlights.

“ _Kate_ ,” Eiffel sighs, getting out of their way in a hurry. He looks around for Anne, and then turns away, just as shy as she is.

“ _What._ ”

Minkowski finally regains enough presence of mind to nod to Kate with an “Excuse me” and step outside into the heat, closing the door behind her.

“So,” she says, when Lovelace remains silent. “We should probably… talk?”

 _“What?”_ Lovelace asks again. “I mean… she doesn’t mean travel sickness, does she? _Minkowski._ ”

She sighs. The game is up. “No, she doesn’t,” she admits. “I don’t know _how_ she knew-”

“Pregnant?” Lovelace asks as she cuts her off, confirming what’s obvious. “Because she’s done it before? How long have you-”

“A month or so.” More like six weeks by now. “I was going to tell you-”

“A _month?_ You’ve been carrying our baby for a _month,_ and you-” Lovelace stops. Her hands fly to her mouth. “I’m... going to be a mom?”

“If… that’s what you want.” She hasn’t thought this far ahead. She hasn’t _wanted_ to think about this till now. _Please let this be what she wants._

To her absolute horror, Isabel bursts into tears.

“I’m going to be a _mom,_ ” she repeats, and Renée finally sees that she’s smiling.

She steps forward and hugs her, a little awkwardly. “We’re going to be moms,” she repeats, smiling.

“I’m still mad at you,” Isabel sobs, but she’s holding her so tight that Renée can’t really believe it.

“You can be mad at me later,” she promises. “But right now, you’re going to be a mom.” _And so am I._ The thought is still terrifying, but right now, it’s wonderful in equal measure.

“I never thought I’d get to do that,” Isabel says, stepping back and wiping her eyes. “Even before all the shit in space, I never thought anyone would - and _God_ ,” she says laughing. “We just totally abandoned Eiffel in there, didn’t we? Should we go rescue our eldest child?”

“He’s not- God, he is, isn’t he?” She starts to laugh too, “At least we have some practice, right?”

“Right, right,” Isabel agrees. “Oh my God. Okay, let’s go interrupt the family reunion, and then we’re going to have a _long_ talk about _secrets_ and _sharing_ and how I was _right_ about the gas station condoms.”

“If you say ‘I told you so’ after I’ve spent the last month with my head in a bucket-”

“Travel sick, she says! A navigations expert!”

“You bought it, though,” Minkowski points out, a little unwisely. “You all did, except-” She cuts herself off, unwilling to incriminate Eiffel.

“Later,” Isabel sighs. “Let’s go save our moron.”

The moron in question turns out to have no need for rescue. He’s at the table with Anne, drawing her out with questions about her favourite movies, with occasional interjections from Kate. They look like a family, in spite of everything, and for a moment, Minkowski imagines another family, around another table, and the whole thing seems much less scary somehow.

*

Isabel and Renée sleep in a guest room that night, in a real bed. Eiffel sleeps among the servers. More specifically: he doesn’t sleep.

“How am I the last to know about _everything?_ ” Hera complains. “I used to be the first to know about everything. In the _universe._ And now I’m finding out vital information through _you?_ ”

“It wasn’t actually my secret to tell,” Eiffel points out, “but it’s out in the open now. And I _did_ tell you as soon as I could.”

“Traitor,” Hera accuses regardless. The lights around him pulse sympathetically, however. At least he thinks that’s what those colours and rhythms mean. “How was it? With Anne?”

“It was… good,” he admits, almost not believing it. “She’s good. _So_ smart, I could barely keep up with her signing. Funny, too. So much more than I deserve…”

“No, don’t use this as an excuse to self-flagellate. I’ve heard enough of that already,” Hera says. “But I’m glad it went well. Did you... tell her about me?” she asks, after a pause.

“A little,” he says. “I think she’d like to meet you. Maybe not like this,” he gestures to the servers surrounding him, “but when we’ve got you set up so you feel like yourself again.”

“In California?” _In Maxwell’s house,_ she thinks, and doesn’t know _how_ to think it.

“If that’s what you want,” he adds, quickly. “I know the laptop isn’t what you’re used to.”

“It’s what I want,” Hera reassures him. “It’s so… _cramped_ in here. Although having you so close to the servers is nice,” she admits. If she had a face, she’d be blushing.

“Who knew you got so warm?” he teases. “It _is_ nice, though. Getting to be closer to you. It’s different to the station, but… good different, you know?”

“Better?” she asks, and makes her lights pulse pink, just because she can. Just because it feels nice.

“Definitely,” he agrees. “Did you do that on purpose? It’s pretty.”

“You like it? It’s a _very_ limited range of colours…” _Humans,_ she thinks, but it’s fonder than it used to be.

“I like all of them,” he says, “I just didn’t know you could pick.”

“Well, I’ve had a lot of time to explore non-vital functions now we’re not constantly in danger of crashing into any stars,” she points out. “Imagine what I could do in a _house._ So domestic,” she teases.

“Cosy,” he counters, “and safe. We’re _way_ overdue some safe.”

“And you’re way overdue some sleep,” Hera says. There’s that _fondness_ again, that she never had before. “You barely slept at all last night, and you have to drive some of the way when we’re done here.”

“Getting bored of our sleepovers already?” he jokes. “I like having the chance to talk to you when you don’t have to do fifty thousand other things at the same time.”

“We have plenty of time for sleepovers,” Hera says. She turns the lights down low, and her voice, too. “I like having you sleep in here.”

He yawns in spite of himself. “I like sleeping in here too.”

“Domestic,” she says again, as he settles down into his nest of blankets. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he says, as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

“Go to sleep, Doug.” She hasn’t called him _Officer Eiffel_ in months. His first name feels nicer in her synapses.

“Goodnight, Hera,” he says, and though the lights are too dim for her webcam to pick up his expression, she can hear the smile in his voice. She likes the sound of his smile. Especially when he says her name. She listens, through the whir of her servers, until he’s fallen asleep.

And then she downloads every book ever written on human infancy, and gets to work.

*

“So,” Isabel says in the guest room. They’re tangled in the sheets, and she has a reverent hand resting on the subtle swell of Renée’s stomach. “So.”

“So?” Renée says, hopefully.

“What do you reckon?” Isabel asks. “Boy or girl?”

“I hadn’t been thinking that far ahead.” She smiles, thoughtfully. “Whatever it is, I hope it gets your hair.”

“I hope it gets those green eyes of yours,” Isabel smiles back. She rubs slow circles on Renée’s belly, absent-minded and content. Her skin is warm pressed against hers in the Texan evening. “And your freckles.”

She wrinkles her nose, “Really? They’re not my favourite thing.”

“They’re _my_ favourite thing,” Isabel says, twisting slightly to kiss her favourite one, the one at the corner of her lip.

“Sap,” she teases, kissing her properly. “Our baby’s going to be _beautiful._ ”

“And thank _God_ it had the presence of mind to wait until we were home,” Isabel adds, shuddering slightly at the thought of it happening on the Hephaestus.

Renée considers this for a moment. “I was so worried about this being the worst time, but you’re right. We’ve been in worse situations.” She gives her a warm smile and snuggles closer.

“You know I would have supported you,” Isabel says, a little more seriously, “if you didn’t want to keep it. But you should know, even though it’s terrible timing, and we’re kind of broke until we can unfreeze our bank accounts, and we drive a truck now… I am _so_ happy.”

“So am I,” she says, looking up at Isabel, and realises that it’s entirely true. She’s been running on panic for so many days she’d almost forgotten that was a possibility but even so, she feels it, like a warm glow in her chest. “Another member for our weird little family.”

“So what do you say?” Isabel asks, running a hand through the red hair she loves so much. “Do I get to make an honest woman out of you?”

“A little late, but we’ve never done things in the right order,” she says, with a smile. “So yes. But we’re not telling Eiffel and Hera until the last possible moment.”

Isabel nods. “Agreed. And we don’t have to rush. I know your divorce technically happened years ago, but if you wanted to wait until it felt less… I don’t know, weird? I won’t mind. This isn’t a shotgun wedding.”

She snorts, “Who’d be stupid enough to hold a shotgun to either of our heads?” She looks up at Isabel with a smirk. “Anyway, marrying you is never going to get less weird.”

“Yeah, you know, I’m not sure they do wedding cards for a trans, lesbian, half-alien bride,” Lovelace says thoughtfully, still carding her fingers through Renée’s hair.

Renée freezes. “Half-alien?” How had she forgotten that part? “Isabel… our baby is half-alien.”

“Well, I _am_ the one who knocked you up, so-” she cuts herself off. “Oh, shit _._ ”

“Our baby is half-alien.” She’s trying not to hyperventilate. It’s not going well. “What do we do? How is this even _possible?_ ”

“I mean-” Isabel frowns. “You don’t have to sound _quite_ so horrified, you know.”

“I’m not horrified! I’m just-” She takes a deep breath, “processing. It’s… a lot.”

“If anything, that just makes our baby _super_ durable,” Isabel reasons. “Which is something a lot of parents look for. We only need to start worrying if you have a _really_ weird pregnancy, okay?”

“Right.” She nods, still taking deep breaths. “You hear that, super baby? You’re going to be just fine” She rests a hand on her stomach, as though willing the baby to listen and understand.

“And I’ll make sure your mom is fine too,” Isabel promises. “And that she gets some sleep,” she adds, pointedly, as the glowing digital clock in the guest room ticks over to two am.

“Ugh, are you all going to send me to bed now?” she complains, snuggling down. “Eiffel’s already confiscating my caffeine. This baby’s not even here yet and you’re all helicopter parenting.”

“It’s going to be the most well-supervised baby in the universe,” Isabel says with a soft laugh, curling her body so Renée can fit comfortably on her side, the little spoon. She puts an arm over her waist, and leans across to switch off the lamp.

“I love you,” Renée says, into the dark. “Both of you.”

“I love you too,” Isabel replies sleepily, pressing a kiss to the back of her head. She reaches out under the blankets to lay her hand across Renée’s stomach again. She never wants to let go.

*

_part two  
california_

,The house in California is perfect, it turns out, and for about five minutes they wonder why Jacobi handed it over so quickly. That is until they find the duck pond across the street and Minkowski and Lovelace collapse into heaps of laughter. Even migrating Hera across to the house servers goes surprisingly smoothly - she fits into the house as if it had been made for her. Still, it’s with relief that Eiffel settles into the server room and starts her systems running properly again.

“Alright in there?” It’s odd, not having the little laptop as their main point of interface any more, but it’s also familiar, and one of the few things he’d missed about the Hephaestus.

 Hera makes a sound a little like a stretch: a contented hum. “It’s perfect,” she replies. “It would be cramped, but I don’t have to look after anything, so… It’s perfect,” she says again, and giggles.

“You’re cheerful,” he comments, as if he hadn’t been worrying about how the house would suit her since they arrived.

“It’s nice to be out of the truck,” she agrees. “It moved too fast. Keeping up with surveillance was _exhausting._ What about you? Are you all settling in?”

“I’m pretty sure the others are already asleep,” he tells her, “so it’s just us now. Almost like old times, right?”

“It’s completely different,” she says, but she sounds overjoyed about it. “You never came down to the server room on the station. I’m not even sure you _could._ Now it’s… cosy.”

“Cosy’s a good word for it,” he agrees. “ _Domestic,_ you said, right?”

Hera hums. “Domestic. Not exactly what I was built for, but I think I can make it work.”

“You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met. You can make ‘domestic’ work.”

“I’m excited to try. Although I can’t really do a lot of domestic things,” Hera says. “I’ve been researching it. There are things I _want_ to do, but…”

“But what?” he prompts her, when she tails off.

“Nothing,” she says, a little too quickly. In the corner of the room, one of the many cameras shifts and focuses. “Your hair’s falling in your eyes.”

“And you’re trying to distract me,” he teases. More gently: “What are you worried about?”

“You’re… _Humans_ are…” she tails off again. “Tactile. When I say your hair’s a mess, I mean…” She doesn’t finish the sentence. It’s been hanging in the air for months anyway.

“You want to… fix it?”

“That’s a bad example,” Hera says quickly. “But yes. You can set up my servers and move my wires around, but I can’t do _anything_ like that. Except blink lights at you.”

“I _like_ the lights,” he says, smiling. “Besides, you’re always around me now. I’ve… missed it.”

“But the word _domestic_ has certain connotations attached…” She presses. “And you’re not unhappy about that?”

He laughs, “How could I be unhappy now? Nobody’s trying to kill us, and the ground stays where I left it.” His voice softens slightly. “Besides, even when we were orbiting a death-star with aliens and Goddard all trying to kill us, you made me happy. But you’re not happy now, are you?”

“I am!” she protests. “Just… anxious, I suppose. _That_ hasn’t changed. And I suppose seeing your family brought all these anxieties to the surface. It’s stupid. Non-corporeal pride, and all that.” Her lights pulse rapidly for a second, and then still. “Let’s change the subject.”

“It’s not stupid,” he says, quietly, but quickly adds: “It’s good to be out of the truck at last. Before Minkowski killed one of us for laughing at her.”

“She’s just tired. She’s getting big,” Hera says. “I suppose keeping an eye on a baby will be a little like running a space station.”

“Brain the size of a house and you’re happy to play baby monitor?” he teases. “I’m sure Commander Junior will be the safest baby in the world with you looking out for it.”

“You can’t call him that,” Hera says, although she laughs.

“Commander Junior or ‘it’?” he retorts, “Besides, it’s better than Superbaby, right?”

“Barely,” she sniffs. “But you’re good with babies, right? Is Anne going to come visit soon?”

“As soon as her holidays start,” he says, “And being good with babies is mostly a matter of practice. You’ll pick up on it quicker than anyone, probably.”

“I’m looking forward to the learning experience. You’ll have to be my hands,” she says, and for once there’s no sadness behind it in her excitement.

“Which conveniently means you get out of changing diapers,” he points out. “Wait. Did you say him?”

A light blinks off. “Whoops,” she deadpans. “I lost a memory block. What was that?”

“You _did,_ ” he says, accusingly, sitting up. “God, who installs _ultrasound sensors_ in their house?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, and also, Dr Maxwell thought going for medical check-ups was a waste of time.”

“You know _exactly_ what I’m talking about, and of course she did, that sounds _exactly_ like our unfavourite mad scientist. One of our unfavourite mad scientists,” he corrects himself. “Isn’t it weird we got two?”

“Human customs say not to speak ill of the dead,” Hera says, a little more quietly. “This _is_ her house. And he did give it to us. So we could be together.”

He sighs, “Good point. Another change of subject in order? Like the fact you know Commander Junior is a boy and didn’t tell the rest of us?”

“I can’t help knowing!” Hera protests. “Minkowski wants it to be a surprise, so _don’t_ tell her.”

“Our secret,” he promises, but sounds a little pleased at the knowledge. There is a thoughtful silence, then: “You know, when I went to space I didn’t think we’d come back with a _baby._ ” He pauses, then adds, fondly, “Then again, I didn’t think I’d be coming back with you.”

“Me neither. I was ready to be noble about it. But I like this _much_ better.” Her voice drops a little, becomes more uncertain. “Would you… I know you’re probably excited to have a real bed again, but - would you sleep here tonight?”

“Actually…” he pauses, “Would you mind if I moved it in here? It’s hard to sleep away from the servers now. Guess I’m just used to having you close by now.”

Every little light around him glows golden, like Hera’s beaming. “I’d like that,” she says.

*

“Hera.” MInkowski’s voice is deathly even. “What. Is. That.”

‘That’ is the classical music streaming gently from the speakers in the walls. It would be pretty, if they hadn’t heard enough classical music for a lifetime and it also wasn’t 2 in the morning.

“The baby is restless,” Hera says, like that explains everything. “I read that classical music is calming. You’re _welcome._ ”

“The _baby_ can get an early start on sleeping at night,” Lovelace growls.

“Shut it off,” Minkowski orders. “It’s the middle of the night, Hera!”

“ _Fine._ ” The Mozart comes to an abrupt stop. “If it kicks you awake, don’t come crying to _me._ ”

“Does she have a sleep mode?” Minkowski wonders aloud, after a few moments of silence. “And no, you _don’t_ have to answer that, Hera.”

“It’s rude to talk about someone like they’re not in the room,” Hera says snitily, and then the sensors in the corner of the ceiling pointedly power down.

“ _Is_ it hurting you?” Lovelace asks, still blinking sleep out of her eyes.

“Well, if it wasn’t kicking before, it is now,” she replies, rolling onto her side. “This is _definitely_ your fault. Superbaby doesn’t need sleep either, apparently.”

Lovelace rolls her eyes and shimmies down the bed until she’s eye-level with Minkowski’s swollen stomach. “Hey, little alien,” she croons. “Give your mom a break, okay? She needs her rest. She gets cranky without it.”

“You’d be cranky too with someone kicking you awake,” she retorts, then pauses and gives a relieved sigh. “ _Thank you._ You’re its favourite already.”

“It just wanted some attention,” Lovelace replies, amused. She traces soothing circles on the skin. “It’s okay. You can kick as much as you want when you’re out of here,” she continues, in that soft voice.

“Within reason,” Minkowski adds. “Do babies ever understand reason, or do we have months of cooing ahead?”

“I’m okay with months of cooing. But it’ll have your brains, hopefully,” Lovelace says.

“Your smile,” Minkowski counters, smiling herself. “It’s going to be _perfect._ Aren’t you, Superbaby?”

“Just like your momma,” Lovelace croons, then stifles a yawn with the back of her hand.

“Back to sleep?” she suggests, but it turns out the baby has other plans.

*

 _Hera:_ Eiffel! I need updates!

 _Eiffel:_ its been less than 30s since you last asked

It has. There’s not been much else to do in the waiting room than watching the clock.

 _Hera:_ So! How long does this usually take!

 _Eiffel:_ didnt that come up in your research?  
_Eiffel:_ anne took a day and a half.

 _Hera:_ Poor Kate.  
_Hera:_ UPDATES. Before I hack the hospital.

Occasionally nurses wander by and shake their heads with a smile. They would probably be smiling less if they knew he was texting a frantic AI aunt-to-be. Or more. It is pretty funny.

 _Eiffel:_ can you even do that?  
_Eiffel:_ dont do it just because i questioned you. everything seems to be going fine. it hasnt been that long.

 _Hera:_ Is she okay? Is Lovelace okay? Are you okay?  
_Hera:_ IS THE BABY OKAY.

 _Eiffel:_ the baby is still being born. minkowski is still in delivery. lovelace is probably fine.  
_Eiffel:_ give or take a few broken fingers.

 _Hera:_ You’re going to show me as soon as you get a chance, right?

 _Eiffel:_ soon as. therell be pictures and everything. if they dont confiscate my phone.

 _Hera:_ Don’t let them. It’s the only way I can talk to you.

 _Eiffel:_ you really think i can fight them both?  
_Eiffel:_ theyre not just commanding officers anymore. theyre family. scary family i don’t want to piss off.

 _Hera:_ I respect that.  
_Hera:_ But also I’m your girlfriend and I need hospital snapchats.

 _Eiffel:_ Sent a picture!  
_Eiffel:_ welcome to the waiting room babe. be ready for a looooong wait.

Hera finally gets a proper update four hours later. Lovelace appears in the waiting room, apparently uninjured and too happy to confiscate his phone. The baby…

“He’s _beautiful,_ ” Eiffel coos. “Let me just get a picture-”

“ _Eiffel,_ ” Lovelace warns, but she’s grinning too hard for it to have any effect. “You already knew, didn’t you?”

He looks up from the baby to her for the first time, “Knew what? What did you call him? Kal-El? Wait, I bet you named him after me, right?”

“ _He_ is called Tadeusz,” she says, handing the newborn to him with pride. “After Renée’s grandfather.”

“I don’t even get a middle name?” he jokes, still looking at the baby, then processes the emphasis of her words, “Oh. That. ...Hera gives spoilers?”

“Of _course_ she does,” Lovelace sighs. “His full name is Tadeusz Samuel… Douglas,” she admits eventually, “Lovelace-Minkowski. Right now his name is literally bigger than he is.”

“He’ll grow into it, won’t you?” he says to the baby, swallowing the lump in his throat. “How’s Minkowski?”

“She’s asleep. Exhausted,” Lovelace says fondly, still staring at Tadeusz. “But she’s okay. We’re all going to be…” To both of their horrors, she starts to well up.

“Great! We’re going to be great!” he says, quickly. “Here, take Teddy back, he’s probably missing you.” After a moment of awkward silence, he adds, quietly, “I cried when Anne was born, you know. Babies do that.”

There’s another moment of quivering, breathy silence, before Lovelace erupts. “I’m a _mom,_ ” she sobs, and Tadeusz-now-Teddy is nearly crushed in the ensuing hug.

“You’re a mom,” he agrees, nervously patting her back. “To a _very_ patient newborn, right, little one?”

“The most perfect newborn-” she’s nearly indecipherable through the sobs - “there ever was-”

“He’s absolutely perfect. _Definitely_ a Captain Junior,” he adds, looking at the dark, fluffy curls that peek out of the blanket.

His phone buzzes angrily. Lovelace continues to dissolve. In the middle of it all Tadeusz blinks up at him, brand-new and beautiful.

*

“He’s so _quiet,_ ” Renée says softly, after they get home from the hospital. “Are babies supposed to be this quiet?”

“He’s sleepy,” Isabel tells her, eyes darting around like she can’t decide who to gaze adoringly at. “He’s had a big day.”

“He certainly made a dramatic entrance. Like you,” she adds, with a smile over the top of his head. “I love how much he’s like you.”

“Don’t start glowing,” Lovelace warns him.

“The astounding bioluminescent baby,” Renée teases. “No, he’s perfect as he is. You’re glowing, though. Metaphorically.”

“I can’t believe I’m a mother,” Isabel says reverently. “I _never_ thought… I am so happy, you know that?” She leans over to press a gentle kiss to Renée’s lips. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too. Both of you.” Renée leans against her a little, “but I’ve never been more tired in my life. Space has nothing on this.”

“Get some sleep,” Lovelace says, gently transferring Tadeusz to her own arms. He stirs, just a little, and they both melt for the hundredth time. “Even commanders need their rest.”

“Mm… I haven’t finished looking at you two yet,” she objects. “How am I supposed to sleep when you’re holding our son?”

“You can sleep, and we’ll be right here,” Isabel promises her. “Won’t we, Teddy? Ugh, it’s already caught on.”

“It’s a good nickname,” Renée smiles. “Suits him. Better than Commander Junior, anyway.”

Lovelace laughs. “That’s true. Now sleep, darling. You’ve earned it.”

“I’ve _earned_ getting to look at you with our baby,” she argues, but she slips into bed anyway. “Bring him over here?”

Lovelace settles down next to her, Teddy in her arms. He’s asleep, but his little fingers wiggle and he yawns in her arms.

“You’re _perfect,_ ” Renée croons, “Both of you.”

Her head leans heavy against Isabel’s shoulder, and she begins to snore quietly within moments. She looks down to meet Teddy’s serious, newborn-blue eyes.

“You’d better not glow,” Isabel warns again, sweeping his curls back with a finger. “You’re beautiful enough as it is, okay?”

Teddy gurgles. Everything is okay.

*

“And they’re gone. At last,” Eiffel announces to Hera, Teddy, and the now half-empty house. “I thought we’d never get them out the door.”

“Can you hold him up to the camera?” Hera asks. A little ‘eye’ snakes out from the wall.

Eiffel does so, careful to support his head. “Say hi to your auntie Hera, Teddy!”

Teddy gurgles happily, reaching towards the camera.

“Hello, Tadeusz.” Hera sounds almost nervous, all of a sudden. “We’re going to take _very_ good care of you, okay?”

“We’re going to be the best babysitters ever, right, little one?” he coos. “Look, Hera, he’s smiling at you.”

“He is? That’s good, right? I know he likes it when you hold him.”

“It’s… precocious, is what it is,” Eiffel says, “Who smiles at only a couple of weeks old? Our nephew, is who. Clearly gets his brains from Aunt Hera,” he adds, smiling at her.

“Eiffel, that’s genetically impossible - _Aww,_ he _is_ smiling at me!”

“ _Very_ clever,” he coos to Teddy, and adds to Hera: “He could so get his brains from you. Nurture over nature’s totally a thing! Right, Teddy? Back me up here?” Teddy gurgles again, blinking up at Hera. “See? He’s on my side.”

Hera feels like her synapses are melting, but in a good way. She has looked through every available image of human infants to be found on the internet, and she can officially say that Tadeusz Samuel Douglas Lovelace-Minkowski is the most beautiful baby on the planet. He’s got Lovelace’s curls, but Renée’s red hair, and big dark eyes that are staring up at the camera like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. (Although, Teddy thinks that _everything_ is the most fascinating thing in the world.)

“I may be convinced,” she tells them. “Okay, put him down, he’ll get vertigo.”

He adjusts the baby in his arms slightly. “He’s tracking you though, look sweetheart! He’s _interested_ in his auntie _,_ aren’t you, little one?” His eyes do seem to be following the camera as it moves, which is exciting from a developmental perspective. Babies aren’t supposed to track until about three months. “Guess your momma was right about you, huh, Superbaby?”

Hera sways her camera from side to side, because it appears to please Teddy, who giggles and makes his chubby little hands into fists. “Your uncle’s not supposed to call you that,” she informs him, although she does think it’s cute.

“Your aunt isn’t going to tell tales, right, Hera?” He looks up at the camera to smile at her. “Besides, he _is_ a super baby.”

“The _most_ super,” Hera promises. “And we love you _very_ much, Teddy.” She’s finding that she likes having an infant around more than she’d expected, and now she’s made it her mission to make sure that Teddy grows up knowing that his creators and supervisors value him. _Family,_ she corrects herself. _That his family love him._

“We do,” Eiffel agrees, and tickles his tummy to make him squeak. “And you hear that? He says ‘we love Aunt Hera most of all’.”

More melted synapses. “We think Uncle Doug’s pretty okay too.”

“‘Pretty okay’? Remember who’s changing your diapers tonight, kiddo,” he mock-admonishes Teddy, who grabs for his finger. “And that’s insubordination, which you _definitely_ get from me,” he adds, beaming at the baby again. “Come on, Teddy, let’s get you some dinner that’ll be better for you than my hand.”

Hera’s already got a bottle gently warming to the optimal temperature in the kitchen, where, like in the rest of the house, _everything_ is at her disposal. She thanks Maxwell every time she discovers something new and fun, and because she doesn’t have to work for it, everything is fun. “This one’s ready,” she says, shining a light to direct him.

“Aunt Hera’s going to spoil you rotten,” Eiffel says, taking the bottle she indicates. “Look at this! Definitely the best robo-auntie any baby’s ever had, right?” Teddy’s already sucking at the bottle, eyes closed peacefully and happy.

“And probably the only one,” Hera points out. “Unless more surprise babies arrive at the house.”

“Eh, we could manage with more of them,” he teases, “You’re amazing with him, you know that, right?”

“Well, I have a pretty useful pair of hands doing the work for me.” But she can’t get the thought of ‘more surprise babies’ out of her servers, for some reason.

“It’s all your supervision, sweetheart,” he jokes. “Well, that and practice,” he adds, as Teddy finishes his bottle and begins to cry. “Hey, it’s okay, we’re right here.” He props the baby up against his shoulder and rubs his back until the wind has passed and he’s relaxed again. “All better. Mind if I take him into our room?” he asks, looking up at her.

“Of course not. Just make sure he doesn’t pull on any wires, okay?”

“We’ll be careful,” he promises, immediately, “I just wanted him to see you properly. And he’ll like the lights.”

Tadeusz does indeed seem to like the flickering lights of Hera’s servers, the musical beeps and hums lulling him into sleepiness. Eiffel tucks the blanket around him neatly and rocks him a little. “And that was your lullaby for tonight, performed by the smartest person in the world,” he says, softly. “You are a _very_ lucky baby.” He leans back against the wall, Teddy resting against his chest. “Wish I could pass him to you for a minute. He’d like that.”

“Mmm. Me too.” She pulses the lights softly for him, in pleasing pastel colours.

“Pretty,” he says, with a smile only half-visible in the low light. “I love you.”

It’s a miracle she has any synapses left.

“I love you too, Doug.”

It’s domestic, and cosy, and nothing at all like what she was made for. It’s _home._

When Isabel and Renée come home from their date, they find Teddy peacefully asleep with his Uncle in his and Hera’s room, nestled among the servers.

“Oh, honestly,” Minkowski grumbles, but there’s real affection behind it.

“Hey, he’s sleeping,” Eiffel argues back, still smiling. “And look, he’s happy in here.”

“He’s never going to learn to sleep in a crib like this,” she sighs, and holds out her arms for the baby. “Have you been good for your uncle and aunt?” she asks, smiling down at him.

“He’s been perfect,” Hera tells them. He’s _always_ perfect, no matter what. “Did you enjoy your night out?”

“We did,” Isabel assures them, “but it’s good to be home again.”

Renée nods in agreement. “Thanks for watching him for us.”

“A pleasure,” Hera assures them, and Eiffel nods in agreement.

Renée leans her head against Isabel’s shoulder and covers a yawn. “Shall we get some sleep while he’s tired out?” she asks.

“Mmm,” Isabel agrees, smoothing down his soft baby curls. “Come on, sweetheart. Sweethearts. Thanks, guys.”

“Anytime,” Eiffel and Hera say at the same time, and Lovelace looks like she’s trying not to laugh.

When they’ve settled the baby in his crib at the foot of their bed, they curl up together, already half-asleep.

“Well, that’s all the kids settled,” Renée says, with a yawn.

“Mmm,” Isabel agrees drowsily, tucking her head into the crook of Renée’s neck. “Who knew we could run such a peaceful household?”

“We had practice,” Renée says, watching the flickering clock, and suddenly sits up a little. “Hey, look at that. A year on Earth. We made it.”

“Hooray,” Isabel mumbles, and tries to pull her back down with little success. “Honey. It’s cold.”

“It’s _California,_ ” Renée retorts, but snuggles down beside her again. “Happy anniversary.”

“What? We got married a month ago.” Isabel twists a little to kiss her on the forehead as her brain catches up. “Oh. Happy anniversary of not-dying, darling.”

“We made it,” she sighs, closing her eyes. “It’s only just starting to feel real, how weird is that?”

“Very. You’ve pushed out an entire human since we’ve been back.”

“Romantic way to put it, but… we came back from _space._ We faced plant monsters and aliens and _Cutter-_ ” she gave a slight shudder, “and now we’re back on Earth with a house and a baby and a _family._ Sometimes I’m still waiting to wake up back on that station.”

Isabel slung an am over her waist, pulling her in closer. “You’re never going back there,” she promised. “I get it. I have those dreams too. But we’re safe now, and so are Eiffel and Hera. And Jacobi,” she added, as an afterthought. “And Ted.”

“We’re all safe,” she echoed, “and we’re going to have a very safe, very _boring_ life together in which nothing interesting or scary happens again.”

And that, in spite of the interspecies co-parenting and the AI in the roof and the lingering shadows of Goddard Futuristics, is (almost) exactly what they do.

 

**Author's Note:**

> this is the fluffiest thing we've ever written and we adore it. we hope you like it too! if the finale goes well, it'll be a fun celebratory read. if it doesn't... it'll be a nice, soothing au for you all. win-win.
> 
> so, merry christmas! we want to thank everyone who has read, reviewed, liked and shared our fics for this podcast. we've had the best time writing them for you all.
> 
> this has been ada and lottie, dear listeners, and we'll see you in 2018. x


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